I’ll never forget the drive down to that tucked-away spot in East Devon. We’d piled into the car in the pouring rain from up north, sat-nav confidently directing us through those narrow, hedge-lined lanes. About halfway there, disaster struck – or what felt like it at the time. A rogue pheasant decided to play chicken with our front bumper, sending us into a full-on swerve. Heart in mouth, we pulled over, only to find the bird had scarpered unscathed. “Well, that’s one way to wake up,” my other half laughed, and we carried on, chuckling about our near-feathered encounter.

By the time we swept up that private drive, the anticipation was bubbling. I’d been dreaming of this for weeks – a proper break from the daily grind, no plans, just us and some proper downtime. Pulling up to this gorgeous Grade II listed barn conversion, one of two detached holiday homes nestled in the Venn Ottery countryside, my first impressions were spot on. It looked every bit the cosy haven, with its own private grounds stretching out invitingly, complete with a sun terrace, outdoor dining spot, and – oh yes – a luxurious hot tub that screamed relaxation. Inside, it was all character and thoughtful touches that made it feel like our own little home from home.

From that moment, we embraced the joy of doing absolutely bugger all, and it was bliss. No manic itineraries, no rushing to tick off sights. Our days blurred into this glorious rhythm of laziness. Mornings started late, with coffee on the terrace as the East Devon sun filtered through the trees, birdsong the only alarm clock we needed. I’d flop into a lounger with a dog-eared paperback – some cracking crime novel I’d been saving – losing hours without a care. Lunch was a faff-free picnic of local cheeses and bread from the nearby Ottery St Mary farm shop, just a quick hop away. Afternoons melted into hot tub soaks, the warm bubbles easing away any lingering tension, while we gazed at the rolling fields. Evenings? A gentle barbecue on the dining area, stars popping out overhead, maybe a glass of Devon cider to toast nothing in particular.

There was this one moment of gentle self-reflection that really hit home. Sat there in the garden one still afternoon, book forgotten on my lap, I realised how rarely we let ourselves slow down like this. Life’s always go-go-go – work emails pinging, kids’ schedules (ours were off with mates), the endless to-do list. But here, in this peaceful corner near Sidmouth and the Jurassic Coast, time stretched out luxuriously. No pressure to explore beyond a gentle wander to the local pub for a pint, or a lazy drive to pick up pasties from the village bakery. It was humbling, really – admitting I’m rubbish at switching off, yet here I was, utterly content in the sloth.

We did venture out once or twice, just a few miles to Sidmouth’s pebbly beach for a bracing dip and fish and chips wrapped in paper, eaten on the sand with gritty fingers. But honestly, the real magic was those cottage days of pure inertia. The garden became our world – picnics under the trees, siestas in the shade, the hot tub calling like a siren after sunset. By the end of the week, we felt recharged, lighter somehow. If you’re craving a holiday where the highlight is mastering the art of lounging, this is your spot. Pure, unadulterated Devon downtime. Can’t wait to go back.